Hunters
by Panzerbelle
Summary: This is a one off mostly about Daryl. It's a brief vignette set during the episode 'Cherokee Rose'. It's AU, but not crazy. Think of it as a day that got left out of the search for Sophia. I've rated it 'M' for theme and language. I'm also not counting what happens here as sexytimes.


_WALKING DEAD: HUNTERS_

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. No copyright infringement is intended.

 **A/N: This is a one off I wrote some time ago. It takes place during the episode 'Cherokee rose'. Daryl is out searching and finds something, or rather, someone he doesn't expect. I was practicing writing in Daryl's POV, I thought the informal voice was pretty cool. Let me know what you think. I can't get better without you.**

If there had been any eggheads or tree-huggers left, they might try and call his quiet, measured stalk 'being one with the environment', or something else just as stupid. Daryl Dixon wouldn't have taken the time to call it anything at all. He didn't normally have time to think up useless names for everyday things, especially when it took all the concentration he had to try and pay attention to all five senses at once.

A not-too-distant scream tore the still air. Human. Short, chopped off. Feminine. Instantly Daryl altered his course and began to move with a more deliberate, faster pace. New things began to filter in as he moved. He smelled wood smoke. Heard the distant murmur of voices. As he ghosted forward, the new murmur rapidly resolved into male laughter and female sobbing.

There were more cries. Someone, a woman, begged for someone to stop. Another voice began groaning in short, high pitched, choking barks. Rhythmic. It sounded like another woman? A girl maybe? ...was getting fucked and hating it. Black rage, then relief flooded his veins. Neither voice was Sophia's. There were more than two men. All laughing.

Understanding the sounds made him freeze. _'Bad news.'_ Those were the true first words that had formed in his mind in a while. _'Take stock. Listen. Watch.'_

Daryl looked around for other humans. 'Pickets', like in a fence. Guards. Someone watching for other someones. The tip of his bolt followed his eyes as he swept the rolling, woody hills. He didn't see anyone. Yet. He started stalking forward again. Carefully. Barely rustling the carpet of old dead leaves.

" _Come on, boy,"_ Merle's nasally rasp was sometimes easier to imagine than the wind in the trees. His advice was pretty damn easy to conjure as well. It was always baseline 'me'. _"We play our cards right we can catch 'em with their pants down.'_ Merle's imagined snicker made the younger man frown. _"Cap them, we get their shit and all the fresh cooze we can handle."_

Canary yellow winked through the foliage ahead, shutting down his sad lope down memory lane. _'Tent probably,'_ Daryl nodded to himself. _'That color's too and too big bright to be natural.'_ Adrenaline flooded the young man's veins.

Then everything went to shit at once. A man cried out, gurgling, sharp, whistling. Shit had just gotten hairy.

' _Throat hit.'_

Another man shout/screamed. Then a new woman's voice; a full-throated shout, someone charged through still invisible leaves to the fire-cracker pop of thin limbs. The rage rolling through the woods was damn near awe-inspiring, even for a rough, tough redneck boy like Daryl Dixon.

' _Momma's home and she's pissed.'_

Daryl didn't think, he just moved, crackling through the brush like a buffalo. Small flickers of movement in a small clearing ahead caught his eye. Blood stink bloomed, drowning out the crisp smells of leaves and moss. Thrashing. The women who had been crying began to scream. Fear sounds this time, not pain. Male voices began to blabber and curse. Orders were shouted by more than one voice. The sound of an axe in meat shut one of the voices off.

"Fucking bitch," a man shouted. Anger, not fear.

The voice that answered had no words. Another chopped scream merged with it. Male. That was three different men, all hurt or dead now. Daryl picked up his pace. Mad as momma-bear was, she might get herself killed before he could get there to help.

The sharp clap of a gunshot bounced high through the forest, scattering birds. A bullet clicked by through trees not quite far enough away to suit the hunter. Another man screamed high and long, like he'd just gotten nutted.

' _Shit.'_

Daryl broke through the edge of the trees, crossbow ready. All hell really had broken loose. Glimpses of dead men flickered through meadow flowers and blood speckled strands of grass. One guy had an arrow sticking out of his throat. Another had one in his chest. The loudest weeper, not much more than a girl really, was trying to curl up beneath the limb they'd tied her wrists to, wailing, trying to hide her nakedness with her legs while another naked one was scrabbling quickly to her side. There was only an instant to notice that their hair color was the same.

A scraggly, bearded man with an open flannel shirt popped out around a tree, aiming a pistol. Daryl fired first. Flannel man fell, puppet strings cut by the sudden bolt through his skull.

Only two other people were left upright. One was a man, frozen in the act of trying to pull his pants up, obviously unarmed. The other was a woman, dark-skinned, dressed in filthy denim and animal scraps. A big, blood bathed knife dripped over one fist and a no shit, gore splattered tomahawk was clenched in the other. Her black braid whipped as she jerked her face towards Daryl, then his first target, who was just finishing his roll to the ground, then to the last bad man.

Across the little clearing the last rapist did almost exactly the same thing. Eyes to the nearest corpse, then to the woman, then to Daryl. Then to a shotgun leaning against a nearby tree. Daryl saw a whole lot of stupid cross the guys' face and knew he was going to go for the gun.

There was another throat tearing roar and she threw the 'hawk hard. For an instant all that existed for the two men was the brutal song the weapon made and the hard 'chunk' of steel biting into the tree. The madwoman screamed and charged Flannel-man.

Daryl blinked and flinched. He'd never heard such hatred before. Merle had never blazed so brightly, not even when he was crazy drunk and cussin' everybody that wasn't white, right and not on his personal shit list. He was suddenly very glad he'd come into this on her side.

The man across the way forgot the gun and ran for his life, holding up his pants with his hands. Daryl watched him plow the brush line, heard him thrash through limbs and leaves.

He shook off his shock and quickly reloaded the empty crossbow. Long exposure to the Z's sent him deeper into the campsite, eyes behind the bow, clearing everywhere he hadn't seen on the way in.

"Shh, shh," the older redhead soothed the younger, rocking her, crying as she soothed her hair. "It's okay. Sara, it's okay."

Except it wasn't. They were naked, both had been raped. A glance showed blood on the legs of the younger. The oldest one caught Daryl's eyes as he stepped into their weedy circle. Her green eyes blazed. In a rush she crabbed to the nearest corpse and began tearing at a small pile it had cast off before it had started to rape.

"Hold it," Daryl commanded. Swinging the bow to cover her made him feel like an asshole. "Stop. Now."

Red froze, her face twisted into a snarl. Daryl couldn't afford to glance away when the noise from the underbrush grew loudest. The last male voice screamed. Fearfully.

"I'm not going to hurt y'all, but I don't want you to hurt me neither." He'd kept his voice and eye firm on the girl. He'd shoot if he had to, but he wouldn't like it. "You understand me?"

The girl nodded.

"I mean it. I'll help you. All of you. I just don't want to get shot for my trouble."

A victorious howl cut the air. It belonged to the killer-woman. The sound shook him again. She'd be back any second. He knew she'd better not catch him in this position. Angry girl didn't move at all when he flicked the crossbow up towards the sky.

"Get some clothes on while I bash these dead guys." He slung the bow slowly while keeping his eyes on the girl's. A strange guilt kept him talking. "They turn into walkers if you leave 'em."

There was a narrow handled camp axe lying beside a half scattered pile of split wood. Daryl walked over to it carefully, moving so that he could see both girls and the place where the pissed one had chased off into the woods. When he reached for the axe, he did so slowly.

The redhead rifled through the piles of clothing, grabbing what she could for herself and her younger sister. She crabbed back, wrapping the bawling younger in someone else's shirt before attacking the knots at her wrists.

It was hard to keep an eye on them without seeing their nakedness. He felt a kiss of shame watching them, but their privacy was a luxury he couldn't afford. The hard bitten redneck didn't want to be a badguy, but he wasn't about to let somebody kill him for being a good one. His eyes tracked around in short arcs until he found the nearest corpse. Deadguy was mostly naked too. To Daryl, that made him one of the rapists. He didn't feel any guilt at all when he split deadguy's head like a melon.

"Watch how you do that," a deep/hoarse feminine voice commanded.

Daryl looked over. The dark-skinned woman slapped the low end of her 'hawk haft, breaking it free. She looked like some kind of half human monster in jeans and furs, smeared with about a gallon of blood. Her eyes were black and hard as stone. She was younger than he'd first thought. Blood, filth and rage had hidden her age well.

"I want their scalps. They don't come off so good if you hit them wrong." The woman walked past from the still propped shotgun and gave the two young white girls a quick, appraising look. The oldest looked back with wide, frightened eyes. Killer woman looked back over to Daryl. "We can't stay. These assholes will be missed by tomorrow at the latest. Their people will begin looking for them."

"You got a place to go?" Daryl asked.

He tried to look like he did this sort of thing every day as he stepped to the next one the woman had killed. Momma-bear had damn near cut this one's head off with that big knife and she still had it out.

"Not that I'll show you." Her voice softened just a touch when she looked over to the two girls. "Listen, I'd really like to take time to do first aid and clean you up, but I don't know how many little hunting parties these assholes might have out. It sucks and I hate it, but you need to get yourselves together and we need to get out of here."

"She's right," Daryl chimed in, swinging his blade into the back of another corpse's head. "We can't stay."

"B-but what about our dad?" the oldest girl asked. Fear and loss made her sound so young. Under all the tears and dirt Daryl thought she might, _might_ be twenty. "They... they killed him."

"Did they do it fast?" Daryl asked.

The twenty-year old nodded, her green eyes angry at his question.

"Be glad. These assholes could have done a lot worse," he said.

"It's not a pretty thing to say, but he's right. You two finish getting dressed. Hurry." She jerked her chin at Daryl as she wiped her blade on her furs. "You, guy-man, you act like you know a thing or two. Help make their packs up. Be sure you pick up all the water, ammunition and medicine you find. Loot their clothes too. Take their guns."

"I know the drill, lady," Daryl bristled. "What are you going to do?"

"Leave a message. It'll be messy. You might not want to watch."

"Yeah, well fuck you," Daryl snarled. Part of his mind felt the fight-buzz dying and coming down made him testy. Another part of him couldn't let her take charge. "I ain't scared of your skinny ass."

"Didn't say you were. Most guys just don't like seeing another guy's cock and balls," the woman smiled sarcastically. "Of course, maybe you're one of those that does..."

"Fuck you," Daryl repeated.

"W-what are you going to do?" the oldest girl asked.

"Leave a message," dark woman replied. "I told you."

"I thought you said you were gonna scalp 'em," Daryl replied. He stalked over to the man he'd shot, propped his foot on the dead head and ripped his bolt free.

"Oh, I am. But the scalps are for me. What I leave behind is for their friends." She looked over to the girls. "Point out which one is your father. We don't have time to bury him, but I won't mess him up and you can say a few words if you want."

"That one," the eldest pointed to a corpse lying at the doorway of the tent.

It took surprisingly little time to get everything done. Daryl and the dark skinned woman both moved with purpose. For a short time he was annoyed, rifling through corpse's clothes for weapons and ammo, stacking off the badguy's weapons, building packs with enough food and water to do any good while _she_ screwed around cutting up dead people.

Thinking of the dark-skinned woman made his eyes drift over. She was dragging one of the dead assholes over to the others by his ankles. She couldn't be five foot six, and the bastard she was pulling facedown was a good six foot tall, but she didn't ask for any help as she pulled him through the blood speckled grass to a growing row of corpses. It took her no time at all to skin the fucker's crown, flip him and slice off his man bits. Daryl had to look away again when she crammed them in the corpses' mouth. When he looked back again, he noticed that she had absolutely no easy-living fluff on her butt. She did her business quickly, without even making a face.

" _Too bad she smells like road-kill,"_ he smirked.

His eye drifted to the tent. The two girls had gone inside to clean themselves up, and he could hear painful murmurs and the beginnings of tears. He'd gotten a good look at the pair before they'd gone inside and zipped the door shut. The redheads were obviously sisters. Obviously. Same eyes. Same chin. The youngest was maybe fifteen at the outside and still had a little soft living pudge. The older was very nice. Twenty, maybe. He'd gotten pissed again when he heard water trickling in the tent. They were washing off. Out. A wave of sick rage and fear swept him. The bastards Momma-bear was cutting on would probably have done the same thing to Sophia, if they'd found her instead. He knew it.

' _Those fucks deserve everything she's doin' to 'em,'_ he nodded.

The redneck paused in his slow, deliberate march to look back at the three women he'd adopted. He was uncomfortable having anyone he didn't know behind him with weapons. The two girls were maybe twenty yards back, laboring, the oldest had her arms around her younger sister, supporting her as they limped along. The kid was whimpering. Merle would probably have fucked them both and cut them loose. He definitely wouldn't have given them a shotgun.

" _They're slowing you down, boy,"_ he'd have said. _"They can't shoot, can't carry shit. These bitches ain't good for nothing but fuckin' and fixin' a sandwich and you're all out of bread."_

"Fuck you, Merle," he muttered.

Momma-bear was guarding their back door. He wasn't entirely happy about her either, but at least she seemed to know what she was in fully formed words did a decent job of keeping Merle out of his head. _'She looks like some kind of Indian with that recurve bow. She seems to think like one and she sure as hell fights like one. No shit, straight out of a fucking Western. Hell, she's even doing as good a job of covering our back trail as I could, hiding our tracks and keeping her eyes open for anything that might be back there.'_

" _You like that blanket-ass?"_ Merle's belligerent whine wrecked the young man's train of thought. _"Why don't you get her to smoke on your peace pipe there boy and then put some face paint on her."_ His annoying cackle was sandpaper on already frayed nerves. _"Maybe when you're done, you can trade her for a horse or something."_

"Fuck you," Daryl repeated, turning back to his job.

They'd traveled on for another half hour or so before he heard three quick clicks that didn't sound quite right. He froze and crouched, checking the woods around them slowly. When his eyes fell on the dark woman she smirked and snapped her fingers. Again. Daryl rolled his eyes as she approached.

"We need to get ready to camp," she said quietly. "The girls need to rest and water up. They could probably stand to eat something too."

"I'm half scared of stopping." Daryl sighed before he realized that he'd confessed to any sort of fear. "You and me could make it out of here no problem, but those two are messed up. They'll be sore as shit tomorrow. Maybe too sore to move if we let them stop tonight."

"Yeah, but I'm not leaving them. That simple." The woman glanced back to the nervous young women. When she looked back up to Daryl her eyes were hard. "You can take off if you want. You won't want to be around if those motherfucker's friends catch up."

"Yeah I do." The words popped out, surprising him again.

One of dark girl's eyebrows rose skeptically.

"Listen, I'm an asshole and a shithead and a lot of other things, but I'm not _that_ big of one." One of the corners of his mouth quirked bitterly as he looked back at the nervous pair. Nauseous rage began to bubble through his stomach once more. "Believe me, if there's more sumbitches like those around, I want a hand in ending them."

"You may get your wish. This is the second time I've seen men like them around this county," the woman whispered. "I was too late to help anyone the first time, but I did catch one of the ones that stayed behind to pick the bones after the others had gone." She looked at the surrounding trees, then at the girls again. "I asked him some questions."

"And?"

"Eventually he told me that there were about thirty of them. Mixed races, mixed sexes, mixed weapons. They've even got a couple of ex-guardsmen that deserted before the world went away. They keep the people they find for slaves if they don't measure up." She moved so she could look around through the woods she'd missed. "Marauders, raiders. Call them what you want. They're bad people. I expect to see a lot more like them now that the world has gone away."

"So why are you alone if you know all that?" Daryl asked. "If their friends catch you and figure out you're the one that did their boys, you'll be lucky if they rape you to death."

"I know what could happen." Her chin rose defiantly and Daryl noticed for the first time that it had a little cleft. She gave a little shrug and a cold grin. "Who knows, they could have some bad luck."

"Bad luck?"

"Yeah. They could catch up to me."

A weary sigh masked his amusement. The faux smile went away when he thought about how things were working out. His options were narrowing down. His eyes fell onto the two girls who were now sitting, sharing a tree as their back rest.

"Listen, I know a place," Daryl said. "It's a farm, not real far away. If it was just us, we could be there just after dark..."

"I told you, I'm not leaving those two," the woman said.

"I'm not saying we should." He bit his tongue as his voice grew louder and sent a guilty eye towards the two younger women. Yep, they'd heard him alright. "If we camp, we're risking getting caught out here by walkers or badguys..."

"You're thinking we should continue on through the night." The woman's voice was neutral, not giving anything away.

"Yeah. It'll suck balls, and we'll be slower than shit, but we'll all be awake for whatever comes for us," he sighed. "With a little luck we'll be safe by sunrise."

"Sounds tough, but it also sounds like our best option. I'll tell them." The woman nodded and half turned. She paused and turned back, stepping very close. "By the way, if you're taking us to people like the ones we're leaving behind, I'll make sure you choke to death on your own cock. Just saying."

Daryl didn't doubt her sincerity at all. Or her ability. He watched her go back to the two girls. Even with the ruffled blanket of leaves, she was quiet. Almost graceful. He shook himself and took a quick look around for walkers, scouts, or potential food.

" _Damn boy,"_ Merle would have sneered. _"That blanket-ass is sweet on you too. Maybe you should settle down and have a whole tribe of little half-breed babies."_

"Fuck you, Merle."

Night had long fallen, cloaking the forest with a pattern of splintered shadows. Daryl was grateful that there was a good moon tonight, because the world would have been pitch black otherwise. They'd have had to stop. As it was, they were tightly grouped up and making a hell of a lot of noise.

There was no doubt in his mind that the two girls were the worst. They sounded like a herd of cattle wandering around in the dark. Every time one broke a stick or stumbled, he felt like they were ringing the worlds' biggest dinner bell. Daryl sighed and fought the urge to walk away, put some space between him and them. The clicking noise he'd become accustomed to sounded again. Momma-bear walked up while he waited. The smell of death came with her.

"It's near to midnight," she said quietly. "I'm thinking break time for food water and so forth."

"Sounds good," he nodded. "If the girls got to take a crap, they stay close by. I mean close."

The Indian woman nodded. "Yeah. Don't want to step on a crawler."

"Or a badger," Daryl grinned. "Or maybe a nest of snakes."

"Funny man." Her tone was neutral, but as she walked away a moonbeam caught her smirk.

The four of them clutched close after their mass toity. On the plus side, Momma-bear had brought a roll of real toilet paper. Daryl couldn't remember the last time he'd had availed himself of that particular luxury.

The girls had dug some cans out of their packs and the dark skinned woman was showing the sisters how to use an old fashioned army folding can opener. Daryl stood, leaning against their tree, eating some jerky from his own meager stores. Occasionally he caught himself watching the girls more than the trees. They hadn't broken down and gotten all sloppy crying yet, but they hadn't had the chance to either. When they did, it would be messy. It'd probably be a good thing to have Hershel around. Daryl clenched his jaw as the older sister said something. She was using her indoor voice, but even that was too loud to suit him.

"How much longer?" The elder sister asked.

"He says dawn." The dark woman jerked her head towards Daryl. "So, at worst, six more hours."

"Oh God," she moaned.

"It is what it is," the dark woman said with a slight shrug. "Better than getting caught by those guys' friends, or torn apart by geeks."

The youngest girl whimpered.

"Do you mind?" the oldest frowned. Her hand went around her sister's shoulder.

"Listen," the dark woman's quiet voice grew a little harder, "you need to get this soft shit out of your head. Twenty-first century Earth is gone. There's no more TV, no more sororities, no more weed unless you grow it yourself. There are monsters on this world. Bad people. You want to live, you need to toughen up." She looked carefully from one to the other, making sure she had their eyes. Her tone softened again. "If it seems like I'm being a bitch, it's because I am. You two need to be bitches too. Right now."

Daryl happened to be looking down when the oldest girl looked up at him. He shrugged and nodded. "Hurry up. We're leaving in five."

"I hope you're right about this place." Momma-bear followed Daryl for a few feet as he walked away from their little group. "We're getting low on water."

"Quit bitchin'," he grumbled. "We'll find something, even if we don't get to the farm."

She looked at him for a long, appraising moment before fading back behind the girls.

The sky was lightening from midnight to federal blue when a thin slash of white appeared through the trees ahead. This time it was Daryl's turn to stop the group. He started talking when he felt Momma-bear's hand squeeze his shoulder once.

"That's the road to the farmhouse," he murmured, jerking his chin towards the white line. "You stay here with them and keep watch. I'm going to go check it out."

"We'll be here."

Daryl slipped ahead, relaxing a little as he left the trio behind. All night long he'd been shackled to those noisy bitches, now he could move at his own pace without feeling like every eye in the world was on him. It felt good getting back into a hunter's mindset. When he finally broke the tree line he was back to being something that belonged in the wilds.

The moon had long gone down, and thin morning fog was beginning to rise from little dips in the ground. There were just little wisps here and there so far, but in an hour, it could get really dense. Daryl stepped out and stood at the edge of the road. Nothing moved in either direction. Nothing crunched or whispered through the leaves across the way. He crouched, rubbing the pale, rocky dust with his fingers. The razor thin slash of dawn didn't give him enough light to see tire tracks or hoofprints. The stuff he was messing with was the right color, the right texture, but still...

' _Damn, I hope this is the right road.'_

A look back towards the women showed nothing but a chiaroscuro of trunks and leaves. He'd feel stupid if this was the wrong road. A look up showed him enough stars to confirm that it was going in the right general direction, anyway. He slipped back towards the women.

"And?" Momma-bear asked as he crouched.

"We're where we want to be," Daryl whispered. "In an hour, we'll be at the farm."

"Just in time for breakfast." The dark-skinned woman's voice held a smile.

"Yeah. Whatever. Listen, we're going to be on the road, but we'll stay near the trees, just in case we need the cover." His eyes ranged over the three women. "You've gotta keep your eyes open and your ears perked. Don't get stupid at the last minute."

"We've made it this far," the oldest sister hissed.

"Don't matter how far we done come," Daryl growled. "Dumb is dumb and dead is fucking dead. You do what I say. Hear?"

"We've got this," Momma-bear said as she leaned forward, pulling his eyes from the older sister. "You. Back on point. Then you two, then me. Same as always. Let's go. Now."

Daryl nodded, unable to disagree, or too tired to build another point off of something said. He turned and began walking, feeling the invisible spotlight settle on his shoulders again. Behind him the herd began to migrate.

Two minutes later the clatter had died. They were out on the road. It still wasn't as quiet as Daryl might have wished. The sisters seemed to have the gift of being able to find and kick every loose stone in the whole place. They crunched, they whispered, they whimpered. It was quieter, true, but not nearly quiet enough to suit him.

It took time to walk up the long drive to the tube-steel stock gate. Half the sky was salmon orange by the time Daryl grasped the chain.

"Listen up," he said in a fairly loud voice. There's two groups of people up here. He looked over to see Momma-bear bristle. "One is my people. They're alright. There's about ten of us and we stay outside the main farm house. The second bunch is the guy who owns all this and his family. From what I've seen so far, they're good people. He's a doctor that helped us when we needed him." He pushed the gate open and let the sisters limp through. When the Indian woman stepped forward, he grabbed her arm.

"What you said back at their campsite was the right thing to say. You didn't know me. I could have been one of them other fuckers," He looked down into her dark eyes with his own flinty blues, "but these are _my_ people. You hurt them, I'll gut you like a fish. Understand?"

"I hear you." To his surprise Momma-bear smiled and nodded. She started to pass, then paused. "You know, that little warning makes me feel better."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. Tribes of murderers and rapists don't look out for each other. They loot their own dead." She finally unnocked her arrow from the string. "Come on, hero. I'm tired."

Daryl's mouth quirked and he nodded. By the time he'd finished chaining the gate closed, the girls had gone only ten timid yards. Momma was beside them. He jogged up, around their flank and into the lead again.

Up ahead, someone was stepped down from the wide, white porch, while Dale watched through his binoculars from the roof of his battered RV.

"Hey," Dale called out. A glance down from his perch showed only Carol awake and prodding the embers of last night's little fire. She looked up. "Get Rick. Daryl's back and he's brought some people with him."

"Is it Sophia..?"

"No," the old man put his binoculars back to his eyes. "Two women and someone... I just can't tell... Two of them seem like they might be hurt."

The exchange of voices started a cascade of murmurs from tents. There were rustlings. Shane pushed his flap open first, tucking his shirt as he came out.  
"Whatcha got, Dale?"

"Daryl's come back with three others. Two of them are walking like they're hurt or something." The old man felt the weight of his vehicle shift a little as Shane climbed part way up the ladder.

"Let me see your glasses." It wasn't a request.

Dale was more than half tempted to refuse, but now was not the time. The bigger man took them without even a nod. The old machine's suspension squeaked a bit as he stepped off the ladder and dropped to the ground.

"One has a shotgun. Another has a bow... and a lot of blood."

The screen door banged, pulling the old man's attention to the house. Rick, Lori, Hershel and his oldest daughter were out of the porch. Lori clung for a second before Rick could hurry down the steps.

"What's going on?" Glenn's voice sounded from below. He had to step aside as the former deputy stepped quickly towards his tent. "Hey, Dale?" he looked up. "What's up?"

"Daryl's brought some people back."

"Is he hurt?" Andrea asked as she stepped out.

"No. He's fine. He's brought three people back with him." There was no disguising the annoyance in his voice as he continued. "And could you get my field glasses back from Shane?"

By the time the small group had reached the front lawn, everyone was awake and curious. Most were content to stay back, near the Winnebago. Of the Greenes, only Hershel and Maggie had left the porch, moving up behind Rick and Shane, who had grabbed his pistol belt and was buckling it quickly.

"Daryl." Rick gave a nod to the man with the crossbow. "What's going on?"

Shane laid his hand on the butt of his pistol as he coldly eyed the tear streaked redhead with the shotgun and the dark skinned woman in reeking hides. The youngest girl clung even tighter to her sister when he looked her way. Momma-bear put herself between the girls and the big man.

"Went hunting. Didn't find Sophia. Found these," he jerked his head back to the women. "The two girls need the Doc."

"What's wrong?" Maggie took a half step forward.

"You a nurse?" Momma-bear asked coolly.

"I help my dad." The young woman replied defensively.

"We were attacked in the woods..." the oldest sister began. She didn't get any further before she started breaking down. When she began to slump, her sister keened a name. "Jaycee."

Momma-bear moved too late to help her down, but was there when she hit the ground. Maggie moved in just as quickly. The shotgun butt hit the ground causing the weapon to flop into the dark woman's quick hand. Shane's pistol leapt out into low carry.

"What happened?" Maggie demanded as she moved to the youngest sister. Her caring hands on the girl's back made the redhead stiffen and flail. "Hey, HEY!"

"STOP!" the dark woman commanded. "You. Sara," dark eyes fixed frightened green. "She's here to help. You know I won't let anything happen to you, or your sister." Momma-bear carefully wrestled the shotgun strap from the older's body as she knelt on the other side of the crying sister. "Let her help."

"Have you been bitten?" Maggie asked, kneeling and reaching for the woman's face.

Jaycee shook her head.

"They were... attacked in the woods by bad men," the dark skinned woman weighted her voice with meaning. Her dark eyes were hard as she looked over to Maggie. "Both of them."

Daryl stepped over, blocking the shot Shane was setting himself up for. Momma-bear caught his movement and handed the shotgun over with barely a thought. When he took it, he held it ready and his flat blue eyes were fixed on Shane.

"They're not bit," he said loud enough for the challenge in his voice to be clear, even to the three men just a few yards away. "They just had some bad shit happen."

Rick looked over to the girls, to Daryl, who was obviously ready to do something rash, then to Shane, who seemed to be completely willing, even eager to shoot someone. Behind him, Hershel was pursing his lips, unsure of what was about to happen and unhappy about it all.

The sheriff stepped over and laid his hand on his partner's wrist. "Shane, go put your pistol up. We don't need it."

"Don't need it? Have you seen these people?" Shane demanded. He felt Rick's hand go from a light, restraining touch to a firm grip. "She's all covered in blood."

"Hey ass, we had to fight to save these girls," Daryl raised the barrel of his newly acquired shotgun slightly.

"Everybody calm down," Rick commanded. His grip grew hard on his partner's wrist. "Shane, I've got this." He captured and held his deputy's eye. "Go put your sidearm away. Now."

Shane grimaced and angrily holstered his pistol. His eyes burned into Rick's for a moment before he stalked off, rubbing fiercely at his shaven head.

"Good people?" the dark woman quirked her eyebrow at Daryl. He shrugged.

"We want to help," Maggie looked over at the dark skinned woman. "Let's get them inside."

"What is it that's going on here?" Hershel asked, finally stepping over into the little group.

"You the doctor?" the dark woman asked as she slipped an arm around the barely cognizant Jaycee and labored to get her to her feet.

"I am." The old man frowned as he watched his daughter take a similar, sheltering position with the younger, crying girl.

"Who are you?" she looked at Rick.

"He was a sheriff," Daryl said, his voice devoid of any particular venom.

"They were raped in the woods by bad men." The dark woman said in a quiet voice. The brown haired girl stepped off, moving forward. She followed, trying to keep the sisters within a few feet of each other, "We've been moving all night." She jerked her head over to Daryl, "We haven't given them time to crash. It's happening now."

"Oh. Oh my," the old man, who had been wrinkling his nose at her stink, stepped over, now more anxious to help. "I don't know how much we can do, but we'll do what we can." He looked over to Rick. "Tell Patricia to get the other downstairs room ready."

"I'll go," Daryl held out the weapon now that Shane had left. "You'll want to talk to Momma-bear."

" _We'll_ go," Rick said. He took the shotgun and waited for Daryl to pick up the bow. It took no time at all to bypass the women with their weeping burdens.

"What happened out there?" Rick asked when they were out of earshot.

"I told you. I went hunting for Sophia," Daryl said tersely. "I didn't find her. Found them."

"What about those bad men?"

"They're dead." He looked over. "You gonna arrest me now? Handcuff me to a tree and leave me out there somewhere, like you did my brother?"

"Daryl..." Rick ran a hand through his hair. "I need to know what we're dealing with here." He took two or three steps more without an answer. "Did you kill them?"

"Every fucking one."


End file.
